Guilty Until Proven Innocent
by AnaEvelyn
Summary: After Jordan is forced to turn herself in, the crew works to clear her name and help her heal.
1. Just Business

**This is my version of resolving the cliffhanger…though I know that there is no way this will actually happen. But hey, that's why they created fanfiction;-) There probably won't be any romance in this one, but you never know…maybe at the end. Oh, and just so you know—I don't hate Woody, I just think he had some 'splaining to do. And I don't hate Lu either, she just makes a good bad guy.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Crossing Jordan, then my life wouldn't be nearly as uneventful as it is now.**

**Summary: After Jordan is forced to turn herself in, the crew works to clear her name and help her heal.**

Chapter One: Just Business

On a lonely corner deep in the heart of Washington D.C., a small pinprick of red light was visible. Standing in the shadows, a man raised his cigarette to his lips and pulled on it heavily. The smoke he blew out was barely discernible on the starless night.

He watched carefully as the object of his undertaking walked up the street and into a seedy hotel. As he took another drag on his smoke, he noted that she was good-looking…pretty, even. It seemed a shame to waste that beauty. Maybe he should take her before he killed her.

The man sighed. No, that wasn't an option. The boss wanted her out of the way—she was digging around too much. Doing anything more than shooting her would be too complicated. If he had learned anything during his time as a criminal, it was to keep things simple. If you didn't get involved with your target, you have a better chance at not getting caught. No physical contact. This was just business, don't make it personal.

Through the door window, he saw the brunette leave the counter. He waited a bit until a light brightened on the ground floor. Perfect. He wouldn't have to bother going through the lobby and risk being identified. All he'd have to do is wait for the light to go out, give her a chance to fall asleep, and move in through the window. A quick, single shot to the head and it would be over. Jordan Cavanaugh would be dead, and the "business" would be safe again.

* * *

Jordan sighed as she flopped down onto the bed. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, trying to make the pressure go away. Another day, another dead end. For all she had found out, nothing seemed to help clear her. She'd been gone for a week, and every moment was tense. Jordan was constantly looking over her shoulder, fearful that either the police or one of the Judge's henchmen would find her.

She had been careful…never using her name, wearing ball caps and staying in low-traveled areas. Finally, she had found out where JD had stayed while working on his story. Tomorrow she would go there and tear the place apart. Surely he had left notes…or something behind. At least something that would point her in the right direction.

Groaning, Jordan picked herself up off the bed. Her hair stuck to her sweaty face and she pushed it aside. The hotel was too cheap to have air conditioning, and DC was sweltering in the summer heat. She walked over to the window and opened it. A soft breeze blew through…not enough to be considered cool, but it took the stuffiness of the room away.

She managed to drag herself to the bathroom and wash her face before falling back onto the bed. In her tiredness, she hadn't bothered to change or move her bag from its spot next to the door. All she'd remembered to do was lock the entrance. As she slept, the breeze from the open window fluttered gently across her face.

* * *

Outside, the man smiled. He dropped his cigarette, smothered it with his foot, and took out a gun from inside his jacket. Silently, he slipped toward the open window. 


	2. Help that Hurts

Chapter Two: Help That Hurts

Jordan woke up with a jerk. She listened carefully, but couldn't hear anything more. Then the sound came again, a loud banging. She made a noise between a whine and a groan—someone was knocking on her door.

The person knocked again, louder this time. Jordan forced herself out of bed and onto her feet. She moved cautiously toward the door, half afraid of who was out there. Another set of pounding started, this time in her chest.

Cautiously, Jordan looked out the peephole. She gasped in surprise. She yanked open the door and nearly shouted, "Nigel, what are you doing here?"

* * *

Just beyond the window, the man cursed under his breath. He knew that everything had been going too smoothly. There was no way he wanted another person to get involved. If just the Cavanaugh girl ended up dead, it wouldn't look so bad. She was a fugitive, after all. But killing someone else along with her? That was begging for more attention. 

Still, this could be remedied. From the window, the entrance into the room wasn't visible. He quietly slipped inside and slunk across the room. He crouched down into the corner between the bed and the bathroom wall. He'd wait until she told whoever was outside to leave. Then when she came back to her bed, he'd fire. She wouldn't even know what hit her.

* * *

"Jordan!" Nigel exclaimed, pulling her into his embrace. "Thank God I found you!" 

But Jordan pushed away, irate. "Why are you here? How did you find me? You need to leave—I can't involve you in this!"

"No, Jordan," Nigel replied. "You are coming with me; we're going home."

"Are you kidding me?" she cried out. "You know I can't go home. If I do, I'll never find out what happened…Lu will find me…I'll go to jail. No! I won't go home with you Nige. How could you ask that?"

Nigel looked at her with a pained expression. "Love, don't you understand? You're in too much danger here. The police…bounty hunters…hitmen. Everyone has been up to their eyeballs in worry. You don't have a choice, Jordan. I'm taking you home."

"No, you're not!" Jordan yelled back. "I'm fine on my own! I don't want to go to prison…can't you understand that?" She was frantic now.

"Yes, Jordan! Yes, I understand that!" Nigel argued back. "But I'd rather you be alive in prison than dead on the street!"

Jordan didn't answer. She folded her arms and looked at the floor.

"Love," Nigel started, quieter this time. "This has been running us all ragged…you the most, I know. But nothing—_nothing_—is worth your life. You _have_ to come back with me. You _have _to turn yourself in. You can't risk getting killed." He put his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him.

She saw his fear and his grief, but couldn't bring herself to give in. "I can't, Nige," she whispered. "I just can't…if I don't stay here, no one will ever find out what happened…I'll never be cleared…I can't…"

"That's not true Jordan. It's not. Dr. M, Bug, Lily, myself…even Woody, we're all pulling for you. We're looking at every angle and under every rock. We're not going to let you down. But you have to let _us_ do the work, not you. We'll find out what happened, I promise."

He drew her into a hug once again, this time holding on tighter. Jordan's whole body was tense, and she shook her head back and forth vehemently. "Don't do this, Nigel…please," she said faintly.

Nigel sighed. "I have to, love," he answered hoarsely. "As much as it hurts me to, I have to."

With that, he released her partly. One hand wrapped securely around Jordan's upper arm and he pulled her out of the room. He paused long enough to grab her bag, and then dragged her down the hallway. Jordan fought, protested, and pleaded. But for once, Nigel didn't listen to her…he didn't back down. As they left the building and he forced her into his car, he kept repeating to himself that it was for her own good.

* * *

Back inside the hotel room, the man cursed loudly in frustration. He should have just killed them both. Angrily, he raised his gun and fired a bullet into the headboard. Then he launched himself back out the window and ran down the street, into the night. 


	3. A Fair Deal?

Chapter Three: A Fair Deal?

The car ride back to Boston was taken in silence. Jordan sat with her arms crossed, glaring out the window. She seethed, infuriated, for half of the drive. It wasn't until Nigel reached over and laid his hand on her shoulder that some of her anger wore off.

She looked at him questioningly, only to see pain streaked across his face. "I just need to know that you're really here, love," he said. Jordan felt the anger seep away, replaced by sorrow. She hadn't been thinking of anyone else but herself when she ran…

As they approached Boston, however, Jordan's sorrow turned to anxiety. The closer they came, that turned into fear and then into panic as they stopped a few blocks from the precinct.

"Nigel…," her voice was high-pitched and frightened. Nigel reached over and pulled her tightly against his chest.

"It's going to be okay," he said. "I promise. We'll make everything right again. No one is going to forget you…we won't leave you this way."

Still holding onto her, Nigel reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He quickly dialed a number and waited for it to connect.

"_Detective Simm—"_

"I've got something for you," Nigel blurted before Lu had a chance to finish.

On the other side, Lu sighed. _"Okay, Nigel. What is it?"_

"I'll make a deal with you. I'll find Jordan and bring her in _if_ you consider, and I mean really consider and investigate, the other leads we've found out."

"_You know where she is? Then you have to bring her in…if you don't, I'll arrest you for aiding and abetting."_

"I didn't say I know where she is…I said I'd find her. Detective, I'm not going to just let you fry her!"

"_Your other so-called leads are all fiction, Nigel. Even if they did turn out to hold water, all the 'evidence' was obtained illegally."_

"Don't you get it!" Nigel exasperated. "I'm not trying to lock up the bad guy…I'm trying to clear Jordan! Now, either you agree and look into Judge Gordon, or I won't help you find her."

By this time, Jordan had pulled out of Nigel's arms. She tugged her knees up to her chest tightly. She felt like an animal…being bartered in exchange for some sort of currency. With all of her other emotions swirling around her, Jordan couldn't take it anymore. She reached for the door handle.

Just as she was about to push open the door, Nigel grabbed her upper arm. She whipped her head around to face him. His eyes were enraged—terrified and angry.

"_YOU STAY HERE!"_ he mouthed furiously. With his arm gripping her so tightly, Jordan had no choice. She was stuck. Defeated, she sank back into the seat and tucked herself into a ball once again.

Finally, Nigel hung up the phone looking fairly satisfied. "All right," he began. Looking at her, he continued. "_Yes_, you are going to turn yourself in. _Yes_, you'll be put in prison—" Jordan started to speak, but Nigel raised a hand to stop her—"But Lu is going to do an investigation on the Judge. The truth will come out."

Jordan looked at him disbelievingly. "She promised me she would, love," he kept going. "If she doesn't, then I'll go to the captain, and keep going higher until someone pays attention."

She broke his stare and covered her face with her hands. Nigel wasn't going to back down; he would force her into the police station if he had to. Suddenly, her throat was dry and she was gasping for breath. She desperately tried to keep her body from shaking.

Nigel brought her towards him and kissed her forehead. When she looked up, a single tear ran down her cheek. No more words were uttered…they were both beyond that now. Nigel started the car and gently took her hand. He didn't let go as he drove the remaining blocks to the station.

* * *

As soon as they pulled into the parking lot, Lu came out the door. Followed closely behind her was Woody, concern written clearly across his face. Nigel got out of the car and went around to open the door for Jordan. As soon as he did, Jordan grabbed his hand again. Tightly.

Lu walked straight up to them, stone-faced. Nigel glared at her as she took out her handcuffs. She took Jordan's free wrist and locked the cuff around it. Then, twisting it behind Jordan's back, Lu reached for her other hand. Nigel painstakingly allowed her hand to be pulled from his, and watched Jordan's face as the other cuff was snapped in place. Her eyes were wide with fear.

Lu was about to lead Jordan into the precinct when Woody stepped up. "I'll take her," he said softly, reaching for Jordan. When Lu started to protest, Woody repeated more loudly, "I'll take her!"

Apparently startled by his small outburst, Lu let go of Jordan. Woody placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed them reassuringly. Nigel hugged her once more, reiterating his promises to find the truth. Then Woody led Jordan towards the door, Lu slightly ahead of him.

Once they reached the entrance, Jordan pushed back to look at Nigel. He tried to smile…to tell her that everything was going to be okay…but the words stuck in his throat. All he could do was watch as Woody gently turned her around and took her inside.


	4. Waiting for the Inevitable

**How bleak is Jordan's future? It will probably get worse before it gets better, but it will get better, I promise! As always, reviews are welcomed and appreciated. Thank you!**

Chapter Four: Waiting for the Inevitable

The longer Woody looked at Jordan, the more his concern grew. Her eyes were wide and lost. She seemed like she was half in another world—as if she was disassociating to try and keep her sanity.

He booked her, and then led her down to the lock-up. After he undid her cuffs, he placed a phone in her hands. Jordan looked up at him with a confused expression.

"You need to call your lawyer, Jordan," he reminded her softly.

Her gaze turned to the phone, but she made no move to use it. Woody waited a few beats before resting his hand on her shoulder. "Jordan?"

"I…I can't remember the number," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Okay," Woody said. "That's okay, Jordan. We'll just look it up. It'll only take a minute." Jordan just nodded and resumed staring at the phone.

Woody had never seen Jordan so unglued before. He realized that this was the worst situation Jordan had found herself in, perhaps even overshadowing her mother's death. To actually see her so weak and insecure scared him.

Her lawyer came to the precinct the moment she got the call. Unfortunately, there wasn't much she could do for Jordan at that point. During the short meeting Woody and the lawyer talked about the circumstances, but Jordan said nothing.

When they were through, Woody took Jordan back down to the lock-up. Jordan stood quietly just inside the cell and watched Woody slide it shut. Their eyes met, and Woody reached through the bars to squeeze her hand. As he turned to leave, Jordan spoke for the first time in over an hour.

"Woody, what's going to happen to me?"

His heart wrenched. Woody had never heard so much fear in her voice before. He turned back around to her. Reaching again through the bars, he drew Jordan to him and gave her the tightest hug that he could.

"You're going to be fine…we're going to get you out. I promise, sweetie. I promise. You just have to trust us…I know that you don't trust easily, but you need to now. We won't let you down. It's hard, I know. But you're strong. You're going to make it." He said the words with his whole heart behind them, hoping to bring Jordan at least an ounce of comfort.

After a while, he spoke up again. "It's almost morning. You should try and get some sleep before the bus comes to…." He trailed off, not able to finish the sentence.

Jordan tensed at his implications, but nodded her head anyway. Pulling herself out of his embrace, she walked over and laid down on the small cot. Woody watched her for a minute before turning and walking away.

Just as he was about to open the door, Woody heard something that made is heart stop. Jordan was crying.

He was going to kill Lu.


	5. Behind Bars

Chapter Five: Behind Bars

Morning came all too quickly. Jordan had cried herself to sleep, but it was a shallow and fitful slumber. She had been awake for maybe an hour when Woody came back down. Before she could stop them, several scared tears fell from her eyes.

"Jordan," Woody said gently. "It's time."

She got up, but stopped just short of outside her cell. She looked up at him, silently begging him to stop this from happening. A few more tears fell.

"Hey, shhh," Woody soothed. He wiped her tears with his thumb. "You'll be all right, Jordan. You will…please, believe that." He paused to take a breath. "You need to calm down now. There are a few other…people…on the bus already. You'll want to be strong in front of them."

Jordan hastily wiped her face with her hands and took a few deep breaths. When it looked as if she had reasonably composed herself, Woody led her out the door. Before they reached the outside, however, Woody took out his handcuffs. Jordan saw them and made a small noise between a whimper and a scream.

"I'm so sorry, Jordan," Woody apologized. "But I have to…the guards on the bus expect it. I'm sorry." He gently cuffed her wrists, this time keeping her hands in front of her.

Jordan's heart pounded as they walked up to the bus. Woody gave her arm one last, reassuring squeeze before letting go. Two guards helped her into the bus, and she sat down. Jordan found Woody's eyes through the small window in the back. As the bus started moving, they held each other's gaze until the other was no longer in view.

* * *

Jordan found out quickly that, above all else, she must not show any weaknesses. During the ride to the prison, her tears must have still been evident. The other passengers stared at her and snickered, even though she tried to keep to herself. When they got off, she was shoved to the ground and cursed at by them. 

Being checked-in to the prison was no less cumbersome. Jordan had to endure jeers and threats from the other inmates as they were stripped and given prison uniforms.

Thankfully, none of these women were assigned to a cell with her. Jordan tried to assess the other three women she would be living with, but found it almost impossible. They all looked hardened, but their emotions were hidden. Jordan had always thought she was a master at hiding her feelings. She realized that she'd have to toughen up even more. She didn't speak to the others, just curled up on her bed away from them.

* * *

That afternoon, one of the Corrections Officers came for Jordan—she had a visitor. Once in the visitation room, Jordan was slightly shocked to see Woody. She walked over and picked up the phone. 

"Hey," Woody said.

"Hey," Jordan said back. She tentatively reached forward and pushed her hand against the glass. Not being able to have physical contact increased the agony of her condition.

"How are you holding up?" Woody asked. He touched the glass at the same spot as her had was.

Jordan shrugged. "Okay," she whispered.

Woody smiled softly. "You'll be all right. You will, Jordan."

"Why are you here? I mean…I didn't expect anyone so early," she explained.

"We're not going to let you stay in here a moment longer than you have to. Santana has been put on the case, in addition to Lu. Lu is having her work the leads on the Judge," Woody added wryly. "Santana wants to know what you found out in DC."

"Then why isn't she here?"

"Because it can't come from you…not directly…then it wouldn't be legal. Santana already knows to go to DC. She needs your information so she can work faster…so she doesn't have to cover the ground you've already been on. As long as she can't be linked directly to you, it's safe."

"Okay…I hadn't really found out much at all. I spent most of the time trying to find out where Pollack had stayed. I figured that he left notes behind, or at least something to tip me off."

"Did you find anything?"

"No, I hadn't even been to his place. I just found out where it was, and I was going to go there…well, today. Except Nigel came and…," Jordan trailed off.

"I know. It's okay. Santana will pick up right where you left. What's the address?"

"Ummm…it's a hotel on Jefferson Street," she started, and then gave him the rest of the address.

"Great. I'll tell Santana right away. We'll find the truth, Jordan. We will." With that Woody made to get up and leave.

"Woody, wait," she called out. Her voice sounded desperate. He sat back down and looked at her. "It's just…I get a half an hour for each visitor…it's only been ten minutes…could you stay? Please?"

He sighed. He and Jordan hadn't been on the best of terms when all this happened. Talking about the case was one thing, but having a "normal" conversation was quite another.

"Jordan, I need to get this to Santana. The sooner she has it, the faster she can work."

"But it's only twenty minutes. It won't make that much difference. Please…I don't want to spend anymore time back in there than I have to," Jordan said, gesturing behind her.

Something in her voice changed his mind. "Okay, I'll stay."

They passed the time making small talk, until the guard motioned for Woody to leave. Jordan stood up with him, assuming that she'd have to go back to her cell now. She was slightly surprised when the guard said she had another visitor.

As soon as Garret entered the room, whatever poise Jordan had left evaporated immediately. Her face crumpled and tears pooled into her eyes, spilling over and down her cheeks.

"Garret," she said, pressing her hand against the glass again. He reciprocated the motion, wanting to touch her just as much as she did him.

"Hey now," he said, struggling to keep his own composure. "None of that. Jordan Cavanaugh doesn't cry." It only made her cry harder.

Garret kept his hand pressing against the glass with hers and spoke to her soothingly the whole thirty minutes. He said many of the same things the others had—that they would find out what happened, that she wouldn't be in there long, and that they all loved her. The only difference was that Jordan truly believed him this time. She trusted Garret more than she'd ever trusted anyone else. Coming from him, the words gave her the peace she needed, if even just a tiny bit.

By the time she had to go back to her cell, Jordan had stopped crying. She had even managed to make a joke with Garret. She thanked him, but begged him to come back. It was an easy promise for Garret to make. He blew her a kiss before she was taken back, and then left the room.


	6. The Waiting Place

**Note: The chapter title comes from part of Dr. Seuss's book Oh, the Places You'll Go! As always, thanks for the reviews:-)**

Chapter Six: The Waiting Place

Jordan was assigned a job in the prison library. After she was done with her work each day, Jordan usually got permission to spend a few more hours there to read. She read anything and everything—whatever would take her mind off of her troubles. At all other times of the day, she was consumed with missing her friends, worry over proving her innocence, and frustration at not being able to look for JD's killer herself.

Jordan was trying hard to stay out of trouble. She knew that if she was written up, it would just make her look guiltier. So far she had been successful, but it was difficult. To some of the inmates, someone else minding their own business was tantamount to taking sides. With each "side" thinking that way, Jordan was caught between a rock and a hard place. That was just another reason she spent so much time in the library.

Slowly, days had turned into weeks…it had been almost two months now. She hadn't expected things to be cleared up at lightning speed, but Jordan was beginning to get discouraged. Garret, Nigel, and Woody came regularly to visit her—almost every day. Lily and Bug came slightly less often, but at least once a week. Every time, their news was the same…progress was being made, but they hadn't found any concrete evidence that would clear her.

On Monday, Nigel came to visit. Jordan came through the door and found his eyes right away. Her own eyes asked the unspoken question, and his gave an equally silent answer. No change; they still hadn't found any evidence.

Jordan's face hardened, and she turned around. "Take me back," she said to the guard. He raised his eyebrows questioningly. Jordan had always made a point to use all her visitation time. "Take me back, now," she repeated firmly.

As she was led out the door, Nigel's face fell. "JORDAN!" he yelled. "Jordan, I'm sorry! These people, they're like the bloody mob, or the Columbian Cartel! It's just—"

But she was gone.

In frustration, Nigel slammed his fist into the table. He stood there for a few minutes, breathing heavily. Then, it was as if a light bulb went on. "The Cartel," he murmmered. Purposefully, he walked out the door. "We're going to fix this, Jordan," he said.

* * *

Back in her cell, Jordan was sitting on her bed feeling terrible. It had felt good to deny Nigel her presence, but now she was regretting it. She realized that it had hurt her just as much as it did him. And it wasn't Nigel's fault that she was in here…or that whoever killed JD was so hard to find. He was doing everything he could to clear her; she didn't need to treat him so badly. 

But thinking this led Jordan to even more depressing thoughts. Nigel and the rest of the gang were the best at solving crimes—no one was better at forensics and criminology than them. If they couldn't find any evidence, then it probably wasn't there to find.

That meant that she'd be in prison forever. She'd be tried, convicted, and sent back here. The idea was almost too much to bear. The more she thought about it, the more she was able to convince herself that it was the truth. And she would rather die than stay here for the rest of her life.

At dinner that evening, Jordan made no move to touch her food. It didn't matter anyway—one of the women snatched it from her just a few minutes after she sat down. It happened a lot, when someone was particularly hungry or just wanted to be spiteful. But this time, Jordan didn't raise a fuss. She just didn't care.

She had decided that she really didn't want to live anymore. Although she could probably kill herself in other ways, starvation was the most practical. It would hurt the least, since Jordan knew that hunger pains vanished after a day or two. And she didn't have access to pills or rope or anything else.

So, she would stop eating. Slowly she would just waste away. It's not like the guards or the inmates would notice—or care. The way Jordan saw it, this was the only option left.

* * *

The computer made a beeping noise, telling Nigel it had finished its task. Just as he went to check it, Bug came in. 

"What are you doing here? I thought you went to visit Jordan," he said.

"I did," Nigel replied sorrowfully. "She wouldn't see me after she knew I had nothing to tell her."

Bug frowned. "She's probably feeling pretty down, Nige. Don't take it personally."

"I know that…anyway, as I was leaving I had an idea."

"What's that?" Bug asked, interested.

"We've looked at all angles of this forensically…tried the political perspectives…tried to find the actual killer using trace…and it's been all for not."

"Nige, where's this going? Stop rambling and get to the point!"

"What if the motive isn't political? I mean, sure Judge Gordon was probably trying to protect his status…but that doesn't have to be the primary motive. I just ran a computer search trying to link the three other victims—the ones JD took pictures of in the cold case room—and I found another match."

"What'd you find?"

"All of the victims were random—different professions, life styles, etc. But the suspects can all be linked to drugs; a particular drug ring in fact." Nigel smiled devilishly, ecstatic at discovering a new lead.

Bug's eyes widened in comprehension. "What if Gordon was involved in drug smuggling? The victims could have had dirt on him, so he had them killed by his own runners."

"Exactly," Nigel stated.

Bug got up and started for the door. "I'll get Doctor Macy. You call Santana!"


	7. Enough

Chapter Seven: Enough

But somebody did notice.

Jordan was lying on her bed in the cell when one of the few female guards called to her. Officer Abraham was a tall, well-built, no-nonsense woman. She could easily take down most of the male officers, if she wanted to. But she was also fair and considerate towards the women she watched over.

"I've seen that look before," she commented to Jordan. Jordan didn't move or acknowledge her. "You've given up," Abraham continued. Still nothing from Jordan. "That's always a dangerous thing to do. Especially when you're one of the few people in here who might be innocent."

"Being innocent doesn't guarantee you a Get Out of Jail Free card," Jordan finally responded.

"No…but giving up doesn't get you anywhere either. You've got to have faith in the system—it'll work out. But if you give up, it may be too late."

"Whatever," Jordan said. She turned over to face the wall and Abraham left her alone.

* * *

Nigel's theory had everyone running pell-mell all over the morgue. Nigel's computers were whirling a mile a minute, Garret was going back over autopsy files, and Santana was on the phone with the DC police trying to get information. Lily and Woody were nervously pacing the floor, hoping for a breakthrough.

They had been working non-stop since the drug connection was made. It had taken a week just to get all the information together. Now, they could process it and, hopefully, bring the real killer to light.

"Crap!" Santana barked. Everyone turned to look at her. "DC Narcotics…the thugs who Judge Gordon acquitted have never shone up in Washington. They've never even heard of them."

"That doesn't surprise me, love," Nigel said. "They were Boston locals. They probably belong to a smaller ring here, but are connected to a bigger one in DC. Why don't you ask Lu to dig into their past activities? It should be all on record."

"Yeah, okay…but she may not be all that willing to do that," Santana reminded him.

"Oh yes, she will," he said vehemently. "She won't want to deal with me if she doesn't."

Abruptly, Bug came crashing through the doors. "That won't be necessary," he said. "I've found the link."

* * *

By this time, Jordan had not only given up eating but she barely drank anything either. She had enough strength every day to do her job in the library, but the rest was spent lying down. Unfortunately, or so Jordan thought, it was mandatory that she attend meals. But they couldn't make her eat.

One day while standing in the lunch line, Jordan felt worse than usual. Before long, a merely uncomfortable feeling gave way to dizziness. She wanted to sit down, but was required to go through the line. The lightheadedness only increased as she walked down the line.

Suddenly Jordan collapsed to the floor, loosing consciousness.

* * *

Groaning, Jordan slowly opened her eyes. She had no idea where she was. Cautiously, she looked around. She was in a bed, but not in her cell. There was an IV attached to her arm and she was wearing a gown instead of her uniform. A hospital? No probably not…the prison infirmary. Flashes of the Overguard case filtered through her head, and Jordan panicked momentarily. But the room was clean; the IV looked normal. She relaxed a little.

"Look who's finally awake," a voice said. Jordan looked to her left and saw a middle-aged man dressed in a lab coat. "I'm Dr. Newman. You were extremely dehydrated, that's why you collapsed."

"Yeah…I know…tends to happen when you don't eat or drink," Jordan replied weakly, but sarcastically.

"Any reason why you haven't been doing those things?" he asked knowingly.

Jordan didn't answer.

"The officers have already filled me in. I can see why you'd want to do that, but it almost cost you dearly."

"What? My life? It's no life here."

"Not your life—your freedom," Dr. Newman said.

Jordan looked at him, perplexed. "What do you mean?"

"You have a visitor. I'll let him explain it to you."

Dr. Newman stood up and signaled to the door. It opened and Garret walked in. As weak as she was, Jordan reached out to him and tried to sit up.

"Don't get up, Jordan. Just stay down," Garret said gently. But when he got to her, he lifted her off the pillows and tucked her into the tightest hug she'd ever received.

"You can be so stubborn…and so stupid sometimes. You know that?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess," Jordan answered. "What is the doctor talking about?"

Garret pulled back to look at her. Jordan saw a multitude of emotions pass through his eyes before he spoke. "We found everything Jordan—the truth. All of it. And enough evidence to prove that you are the most guiltless person involved in the whole mess."

"What?" Jordan breathed. She could hardly process it—it was too good to be true.

"You're coming home," Garret said emphatically. "They're processing your release right now. As soon as the Doctor says it's okay, you're out of here."

Jordan was speechless. She just starred into Garret's eyes until he pulled her back into a hug. She was going home. Jordan squeezed him back and reveled in the feeling of his strong arms.

She was going home.


	8. Freedom

Chapter Eight: Freedom

Jordan sat quietly as Garret drove her back home. As soon as reality sank in, Jordan wanted to know every little detail about the case. She sat at rapt attention as Garret explained.

"It was Nigel who cracked it," he started. "Well, Nigel had the idea…Bug actually found the evidence. We couldn't find enough evidence from Pollack's murder to un-stack the deck against you, so we went back to the case files that he was after in the beginning. Nothing came of it until Nigel tried linking everyone with a drug ring.

"See, the men who killed the guys from the cold case files all belonged to a fairly small ring here in Boston. However, that ring only functioned because of a much larger ring that spans the entire east coast. Since they were low-life nobodies, no one bothered to try and connect them together, much less to the Judge. But Gordon was involved, in more than just acquitting the killers. He was taking cuts from the ring, and doing a fair bit of organization for them. They were all protecting each other with these first murders. Then Pollack got in too deep, and the Judge had him killed."

"But how did you prove all of this?" Jordan asked.

"Simple," Garret said. "We found the head of the small ring, and sweated him until he gave up the Judge…and about ten other people."

"That will never make it in court," she commented. "It's uncorroborated accomplice testimony."

"Yeah, but it definitely clears you—that's all that really mattered to us," he shot a look back at her. It was so like Jordan to focus on the details of the case and not herself.

"Well…yeah…but I don't want JD's killer—killers—to just go free."

"They won't. The witness led the police to other evidence; they'll be locked up for life now. I don't know what the evidence is exactly. I was more concerned about coming to get you."

Jordan pondered this for a moment. Finally, she said quietly, "Thank you, Garret. For everything…you have no idea how grateful I am."

He smiled back at her and squeezed her hand. "No, I don't. But it wasn't easy living without you either. A bit quieter perhaps, but not any easier."

* * *

Garret dropped Jordan off at her apartment. At first, she gawked at it. She'd been gone for months…how could it possibly still be hers? Garret only said that they'd all kept it up for her. Jordan was absolutely floored, and deeply touched, by how much her friends cared for her. She had asked Garret to stay the night, not really wanting to be alone yet.

He accepted, but in the morning tried to persuade her not to go into work. In true Jordan fashion, she flat out refused the suggestion. She argued that she'd drive herself crazy if she had to stay home by herself all day.

"You need to rest for awhile, Jordan," he chastised her. "You just collapsed yesterday. You've been under too much stress. At least take one day off."

"I've had months off," she disputed. "Come on, Garret. I've just got out of prison…don't put me in another one."

He looked at her warily before consenting. "Okay, but you still need to take time to deal with this. It won't just go away."

"I know. And I will—just let me get my life back first."

"All right—but no field work yet. Not until you've settled back in."

"Fine."

* * *

Whatever the two of them expected for that day, what happened certainly wasn't it. Jordan had barely stepped off of the elevator when she was caught up in a giant hug.

"Nigel!" she gasped. "Hey…okay, okay…if you don't let go, I'm going to suffocate…then all your hard work will go to waste…"

Nigel laughed and obliged. "It's good to have you back, love."

"It's good to be back," she said sincerely. By this time, Lily and Bug had joined the group. "Thank you so much…all of you. I can't possibly say how much it means to me."

Lily's eyes were wet as she pulled Jordan into another tight embrace. "We know you'd do the same thing if it was one of us," she whispered.

The rest of the day was spent catching up and re-orienting Jordan to morgue life. Even Woody and Santana stopped by for a while. Precious little work was done.

They all knew, deep down, that things wouldn't be easy for Jordan yet. No one could get over such an ordeal that quickly. But that was put aside for now—today it was time to enjoy the reunion.


	9. Taunting Fears

Chapter Nine: Taunting Fears

Things went smoothly at first. Jordan settled right back in to her work, and the morgue was as comfortable as ever. It was almost as if she had never left. Jordan had herself half-convinced that the mental consequences of her time in prison would never rear their ugly heads.

After just one week, Jordan asked—no, demanded—that Garret let her go out in the field again. She was doing so well that it seemed only natural to take up case work once more. Only not on Lu's calls. That was the one request Jordan made. She dreaded the day she'd have to face the lanky blond.

Despite Garret's better judgment, he gave into Jordan. He always did…why stop now? And she seemed to be assimilating well. It would be good for her to get back to her "old" life as much as possible.

That's when it all started to go wrong.

Jordan had thought that the police force would readily take her back under its wings. However, Boston PD had other plans. The policemen, it appeared, didn't put a lot of stock in Jordan's innocence. Even though there was tons of proof that put her in the clear, Jordan had had so many run-ins and disagreements with the force that they were wary of the evidence's validity.

This was all glaringly apparent from the first footstep Jordan took onto a crime scene. Suddenly, she was the target of furtive glances, whispers, and a few hard stares. The detectives were cold, and the other officers hardly gave her any respect.

Santana's and Woody's cases were the only ones that were barely tolerable. And that was on a good day. Although these two stood by her firmly, the other policemen and CSU personnel never hid their disdain. No one ever accused Jordan directly, but their attitude and subtle comments did all the damage that was necessary.

To make matters worse, Jordan began to have the peculiar feeling of being constantly taunted. It started around the same time as she began field work. Every time she was out in public, the sinking feeling that everyone around her knew about what happened consumed her. She not only felt like they knew, but that they didn't believe she was innocent either.

At first, Jordan tried to shake the feeling off. But then she thought that the case must have surely been in the papers, and that the citizens of Boston had all made up their minds then and there that she was guilty as sin. Judge Gordon's arrest had been in the papers too, but hardly anything had been about JD. She doubted if any of the reporters bothered to print even a sentence stating that she was exonerated.

Slowly, the feelings turned into beliefs and Jordan was haunted all the time. She imagined that this must have been what Hester Prynne felt like—having to wear a scarlet letter on her chest, proclaiming to the world that she was an adulteress. Only Jordan's emblem was the word "GUILTY," and it was emblazoned on her forehead. Whether the imaginary tattoo broadcasted the truth or a lie didn't matter. All that mattered was what the people believed—or what Jordan thought they believed.

The only places Jordan felt comfortable anymore was the morgue and her apartment. Eventually, it became almost unbearable for her to go outside at all. Simply driving to the morgue everyday was bad enough; the people could still see her through the car windows.

Finally, Jordan asked Garret for some time off. He had thought that was a wise choice, as Jordan had not confided her fears to him yet. If he had known, he would never have sanctioned her self-imposed isolation.

Jordan stepped into her apartment and locked the door behind her. She sighed with relief, and wearily dragged herself to the couch. Now, she wouldn't have to force herself out of bed in the morning. She wouldn't have to face the outside and its taunting and teasing. She could crawl into her own little world and hide from everything.


	10. The Edge of Something

**Thanks for the reviews! Oh, and as an add-on to the last chapter, the line about Jordan feeling like Hester Prynne is a reference from _The Scarlet Letter_...but I can't remember the author because high school American lit was a long time ago...**

Chapter Ten: The Edge of Something

Woody rapped firmly on Jordan's door. When she didn't answer, he knocked again. Finally, he saw the peephole go dark and Jordan opened the door.

"Hi Woody," she said somewhat surprised.

"Hey…can I come in?" he asked.

"Uh, sure. I guess."

When he stepped into her apartment, Woody was shocked. It was almost completely dark; the only light came from a small lamp on her nightstand. It was messy too. Dishes piled in the sink, the bed unmade, and the couch pillows in disarray. In fact, upon a closer inspection, Jordan didn't look much better than her place.

"What do you need?" Jordan asked quietly.

"I…I just wanted to see how you were holding up. Dr. Macy said that you were taking some time off," he supplied.

"Yeah…I guess I was moving back into things too fast," she answered. He noticed then that she was hugging herself tightly, very tense.

"Okay," he said. Then he thought for a bit. "You want to go get something to eat?"

"No!" she said quickly…too quickly. "I mean…I'm not hungry right now."

"Come on, Jordan. It wouldn't be anything big. It would do you good to get out."

"No, really. I'm fine. Thanks for asking, though."

"It looks like you haven't left your place in days. We could eat outside…fresh air, the sun on your face," he tried to persuade her, giving her a classic Woody grin. He reached for her arm in an attempt to further entice her.

She jerked back. "No, Woody," she said in a panicked voice. "I don't want to go out!"

Woody opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He had seen that look before, but he couldn't remember where. Then the light bulb went on. Louis Jefferies had worn the same expression over a year ago when Woody had tried to take him in for questioning. The artist had been terrified of leaving his home…and Jordan looked the same way now.

"Okay," he gave in, not knowing exactly what to do. "Okay…we won't go." He took a step toward her and gently pulled her into his arms. She let him, but the tension didn't leave her body.

They stayed that way for several minutes. Then Woody said, "How about this, okay? I'm going to go back to work for a few hours. Why don't you take a shower, get dressed…all that stuff, and then I'll come back?"

Jordan shook her head. "No, Woody…I can't…I can't go out."

"I know, I know," he soothed. "We won't. We'll just stay here and talk. Is that all right?"

After a short pause, she nodded.

"Okay." Woody kissed her on the forehead before releasing her. "I'll be back in about two hours." She nodded again, and he left.

* * *

Exactly two hours later, Woody returned bearing Chinese…and Garret. As soon as she saw her boss, Jordan's eyes lowered. Unsure of whether she'd let him in, Garret spoke up quickly. "It wasn't Woody's idea. I knew he was going to see you this afternoon, and I asked how it went. Then I wanted to come back with him."

Her nod of understanding was almost imperceptible, but she opened the door for both of them. She looked a lot better than she had earlier. She'd even cleaned up the rooms a bit, though it was still dark. Woody took the liberty of turning on a few lights as they made their way to the couch.

They made small talk as they ate. Jordan mostly pushed the food around her plate, but her companions' constant glances caused her to finally choke down half of it.

"Jordan," Garret said when they were finished. She looked up at him. "You need to see a therapist."

She responded immediately. "No, Garret. No."

Woody didn't give her a chance to get farther. "Yes, Jordan. This is eating you alive. I don't know exactly what feelings or experiences caused this, but it's not good. You can't hide out forever."

"I'm not hiding out!"

Garret sighed. "You can't even leave your apartment," he reminded her gently. Her wide eyes switched to Woody accusingly. "Jordan, what was he supposed to do?" Garret went on. "Just forget about how afraid you are and leave you to deal with it on your own?"

She started to say something, but Woody cut in. "You do need help. It's not a weakness…I know that's hard to understand, especially coming from me, but it's not. Anyone who went through what you did would need it. You have to talk to Stiles."

"I can't!" Jordan practically screamed. "You think I don't know that I need help? You think that I want to stay like this? I don't! But I don't want to talk about it either!"

"Why—?"

"You wouldn't understand! I—you—Facing it is harder than living with it!"

Silence. The words sunk in for everyone, including Jordan herself.

Slowly, Woody reached out to take her hand. "I do understand, honey. I do. More than you know."

Garret took her other hand. "Jordan, I'm going to tell you to do something, and I want you to listen. I don't care if you never listen to another thing I say, I want you to listen to this. I'm telling you this as your boss but also, more importantly, as your friend. Okay?"

She nodded.

"Tomorrow," he said. "You're going to come to the morgue and talk with Dr. Stiles. You will talk to him at least twice a week, or more if he thinks you need it. You also will come to work everyday—" she started to protest "—not on field work, just in the morgue. You need to do this. You need some structure in your life, and you need the counseling."

"I'm going to pick you up everyday," Woody added. "You aren't going to go through this alone." He squeezed her hand.

"I-I-I can't…I can't do that," she stammered.

"Yes, you can," they both replied at the same time.

"You can," Garret repeated. "You can."


	11. Nothing Left

**Thanks for the reviews! Sorry I've been so tardy in posting chapters...I'm on vacation, and while I have internet access and the whole story is written, being on a more lax time schedule causes memory lapses for me. I'll get back on track somehow. Enjoy!**

Chapter Eleven: Nothing Left

Garret left shortly later, and it was just Jordan and Woody. After sitting in silence for what seemed like eternity, Woody spoke. "Where's your spare key?"

"Why?" she asked without looking up.

"Because I doubt that you're going to let me in tomorrow morning, and I won't be able to take you to the morgue without a key," he explained.

Jordan stayed silent, staring fixedly at her hands. Woody looked around and found her set of keys on the coffee table. He picked them up and started removing her apartment key.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm taking your key. With me taking you to work and bringing you home everyday, you won't need it," he said. She watched him with a slightly pained expression on her face.

"Look in the box next to my computer," she said finally.

Woody got up and checked the box. The spare key was there, and he carefully picked it up and slipped it onto his key ring. Then he walked back over to the couch and sat down. He raised a hand and gently stroked her cheek. Jordan didn't acknowledge his touch.

"Why are you doing this?"

Woody sighed. He knew that this question was coming. He decided that, for once in his life, he needed to be truthful. He took a deep breath and said, "Because I love you."

Jordan snorted. "Yeah…right."

"I'm serious," he said softly. "I've loved you for a very long time."

"You've got a funny way of showing it."

He lowered his eyes. "I know…I've been horrible to you, I know. After I got shot…maybe I had a right to be angry, but I never had a right to take it out on you. And then, after the Inn…I shouldn't have pushed you away…or gone to Lu. Jordan, I am so sorry."

She still wasn't looking at him. "Thanks…but that doesn't really make it any better."

"I know. But I want to make it up to you. I'm seeing a therapist myself, to try and work my problems out. I want to help you now. I want—"

"Woody," she stopped him. "It's not about that. I know that you can help me…you're good at saving people, at playing the hero. You've saved me so many times I've lost count. I trust you when it comes to helping me. It's just that…in the normal times…or when _you're_ life is crappy…I can't trust you then, not like you want me to."

She finally looked up at him. His face was full of regret. "I know that too," he whispered. "I've got a lot to make up for…I know that 'saving' you isn't going to redeem me. But I can't do anything until you're normal again. Please, let me try. I'm not asking you to love me again…I don't deserve that, no matter how much I want it. But I want to at least be friends again. And if that's all you ever want to give me, that's okay."

Jordan looked away. She knew he was laying his heart on his sleeve for her…and she did still have deep feelings for him. "But that doesn't even really matter," she said despondently. "You shouldn't want to even love me anymore."

"Why not?" Woody's eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"Because," she said, her voice barely audible. "There's nothing left to love."

Woody's eyes widened and he immediately folded her into his arms. "That's not true," he said firmly. "That is _not_ true. Jordan, you are not unlovable. There's tons left to love."

"No, Woody. There's not…I…there's…," she trailed off, and Woody felt her trying to keep the tears inside.

"Yes, there is, sweetheart," he continued gently. "It doesn't matter what's happened to you, where you've been, or what issues you have. You are lovable just because you're you…and that's enough. Honey, you don't have to have a perfect life, or be perfectly stable. You are special the way you are, and very lovable. Nothing can ever change that."

Woody's words washed over her. She wanted to believe him. She desperately wanted to believe him.

"There's plenty to love, Jordan," he said. "There's plenty to love."


	12. Uphill Battles

Chapter Twelve: Uphill Battles

Promptly at 7:45 a.m., Woody knocked on Jordan's door. And he was right—Jordan didn't answer. He pulled out the spare key and let himself into her darkened apartment. He moved cautiously through to her bedroom. Not only had Jordan not opened the door, but she hadn't gotten out of bed either.

"Come on, Jordan," he said gently, coming around to her side. Her eyes were shut tight and she had pulled herself into a ball. "You need to get up now. I am taking you to the morgue, whether you like it or not."

Jordan turned her face into the pillow and pulled the covers around her more securely. Woody ran a hand through her hair and tried to coax her out again. This time, he was met with a sharp, "No!"

He got up and went to her closet. He pulled out some clothes for her, and then searched through her drawers to find everything else she'd need. Once he'd placed these in the bathroom, Woody returned to her bed.

"Time's up, Jordan. You have to get up," he said. Then, he took the covers by the foot of the bed and yanked on them. Jordan's grip had loosened, and the sheets slid right off of her body. She gave a small cry and tried to clutch her knees closer to her chest.

Before Jordan had time to react further, Woody picked her up off the bed. She fought, but he carried her into the bathroom and deposited her on the floor.

"Now," he said firmly, yet gently. "I'm going to go make you some breakfast. You need to get changed and ready for the day. I'll come back when the food is done…and if you're not up, then I'll do everything for you." He lifted her chin so that she could look at him and see that he was serious. Then he turned around and shut the door behind him.

Woody set about making pancakes, purposely moving slow in order to give Jordan more time. He made coffee and cut up some fruit too, since he figured Jordan had eaten very little over the past few days.

He covered the pancakes with an extra plate to keep them hot, and then went back to check on Jordan. He was slightly shocked to find the door unlocked; he had figured that she would try to keep him out, even if there was one of those special keys around.

When he saw her, Woody was pleased to see that Jordan had changed into her clothes. That was about all she had done, however. Calmly, he picked up her hairbrush and bent down to her level. He gently ran the brush through her hair taking out all the snags. Then he gathered it behind her head and fastened it into a ponytail. Next, Woody found a washcloth and Jordan's facial soap. He carefully lathered the cloth and set about washing her face.

During the whole exchange, Jordan neither helped nor hindered his actions. When he got up again and returned with her toothbrush, though, Jordan snatched it out of his hand. Apparently that was crossing a line. She got up from the floor and proceeded to brush her teeth herself, all the while glaring at Woody.

He didn't push his luck and stepped back. She finished and then turned to him, her arms folded.

"Let's go eat," was all he said, and he led her out of the bathroom.

She sat down at the counter and Woody placed the pancakes and fruit in front of her. He had even added a bit of cinnamon to the pancakes, trying to tempt her. Jordan just stared at the food sullenly.

"Jordan, you have to eat," he cajoled. Then, trying to lighten the mood a bit he added, "Do I need to do that for you too?"

Jordan didn't think it was very funny, but she did pick up her fork. Woody sighed and watched her eat, not wanting to push her any farther. For a few minutes afterward, he let Jordan just sit while he cleaned up her kitchen.

Getting Jordan out of the apartment proved to be much harder than getting her ready for the day. She struggled with him heavily—she actually slapped him once. Woody never realized just how strong she was…but size is no indicator of strength. She never spoke, but she didn't need to. Her eyes told the whole story. She was petrified. Woody didn't understand it…last night he hadn't thought that the problem was this bad.

Finally, he moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Woody moved her bodily out into the hallway and shut the door behind him. He held her against the wall for a few minutes, trying to calm her down. "It's okay, Jordan," he said. "Try to relax. It's okay."

* * *

Jordan sat mutely on the couch in her office. It had taken a while, but Woody had eventually gotten Jordan into his car and to the morgue. She had stopped struggling once they were outside her apartment, but had been nothing more than dead weight. 

Now, she was there with Dr. Stiles. Jordan had made up her mind not to talk to him…not to say a word, no matter how hard he pushed. Her plan wasn't working out, however.

Maybe it was because Stiles really, truly seemed to be concerned about her. Maybe it was because, for once, he didn't make a single joke or hit on her. Whatever the reason, Jordan found herself opening up to him just a tiny bit.

"I can't go outside," she whispered.

"But you're already outside, Jordan," Stiles replied.

She fidgeted a bit. "The morgue…is just okay…not great. But I can handle it. The only other place I feel…safe…is my apartment."

"What do you need to be safe from?"

"Everyone."

"That's a lot of people…why are you afraid of them?"

Jordan opened her mouth, and then shut it again. She knew that her fears sounded stupid…irrational.

"Jordan?"

"They know."

"What do they know?"

"…That I was in prison. They think I'm guilty," she finished and buried her face in her hands. Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment.

"How do they know that?" His voice didn't hold any trace of accusation in it, but Jordan was already flustered enough.

"They just know!" she yelled. She took a shaky breath. "Can we please just stop now?"

Dr. Stiles was silent for a moment, and then said, "All right we'll stop."

Jordan looked up, having not really expected him to agree.

"But we'll continue this on Wednesday. I want to see you every other day."

Jordan averted her eyes, unhappy.

"Your fears are not silly, Jordan. You just need to work through them. It'll take some time, but you can do it."

With that he left her office, mercifully leaving Jordan alone at last.


	13. What Could Have Been

**It's the beginning of the end. As always, I appreciate your reviews!**

Chapter Thirteen: What Could Have Been

Things slowly, slowly started to get better. At the rate of five miles per hour, but any progress was good. Woody dutifully came to Jordan's door every morning and got her to work. Then, he repeated the process at the morgue in the evenings. Jordan was mainly pushing papers at the morgue, but she did do some autopsies for death by natural causes.

Her friends had been extremely supportive and patient…more patient than Jordan could ever imagine anyone being.

The conversations with Stiles had not been especially revealing, but only because Jordan wasn't being completely forthcoming. She usually ended up illuminating some part of the puzzle, but never the whole picture. Jordan knew that talking to Stiles wouldn't help if she wasn't honest. Her fears, and her already honed defensive skills, always popped up in the sessions.

One thing Jordan had been truthful about was how much she'd wanted to solve the case herself. Not that she wanted the glory, but that she had wanted to stay in control. There was also the added bonus of staying out of prison.

Stiles asked her if she resented Nigel for forcing her back to Boston. Jordan said no…she knew that Nigel did that because he truly cared about her. Then she had reminded the doctor that Nigel's reasoning was not the cause of her current psychosis.

But still…if Nigel hadn't pulled her butt out of DC, she never would have had to be in prison…and she probably wouldn't feel like the whole world treated her like a convict. Then she quickly switched her thinking. Nigel loved her, and he had clearly been afraid for her safety. It's not like he _wanted_ her to go to prison.

These thoughts swirled around Jordan's head for days, battling each other. She didn't tell anyone, least of all Stiles, about her inner musings.

Finally, though, they found their way out into the open. Nigel and Jordan were doing an autopsy together. Things were normal…nothing out of the ordinary with them or the body. But the wonderings in Jordan's mind were flying a mile a minute.

Without warning, she blurted out. "Why did you have to come get me?"

Unaware of where the conversation was headed, Nigel asked, "What do you mean?"

"In DC…why did you make me leave?"

"Jordan, I've told you. I was afraid that you'd come back in a body bag."

"How do you know that would have happened?" she asked, her voice rising. She didn't wait for him to answer. "You didn't know that. You just wanted to control everything and stop me because you didn't think I could do it myself. Everyone always thinks I need to be rescued!"

"Jordan, that's not true. I—"

"YES, IT IS! If you hadn't made me come back here, I would have solved the case. Probably faster than you all did because I didn't have any cops restricting me! Instead, you shipped me off to prison and had a jolly time without me!" She threw down her tools in frustration. "Why did you do that, Nige? Why?"

"Because you would have DIED!" he yelled, loosing his temper. "Don't look at me that way, you're not invincible no matter how much you think you are!"

"I know that," she spat back. "But you don't know...I was careful! I made sure no one was following me. I could've kept out of the spotlight and got the evidence, but you didn't let me!"

"No, Jordan. That would _not_ have happened. There was a bloody HIT on you, for goodness sake!"

Jordan froze. "What?" she whispered.

"Yes," he said, his anger evaporating and being replaced by retroactive worry. "We found out because we flipped the guy who was sent to kill you. He said the Judge ordered it himself."

"But that doesn't mean that he would've found me," she said uncertainly. Jordan didn't want to believe Nigel's words.

He looked at her with pained eyes. "But he did, love. He did find you."

She stared back at him wide-eyed.

"He was in your hotel room the night I came. He told us that he didn't want to kill two people…it would've looked to suspicious. So he was going to wait until you came back into the room. If I had been just five minutes later…or if you hadn't let me pull you out…you would have walked right into a gun in your face and…that would have been the end."

Jordan was silent. Suddenly, her thoughts all seemed very foolish. Of course she wouldn't have stood a chance against those men. They were dangerous…she had known that before she left for Washington. She had been too preoccupied with staying away from the police to think rationally. She was still thinking poorly…and now she had blown up at Nigel.

"Nige," she began. "I…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…It's not your fault…I just…I'm sorry."

At that point, Nigel ended her ramblings by swooping her up in his arms. "It's okay, love. You've had a very rough time since then. It's okay to be upset. It's really okay."

He squeezed her just a little tighter before letting go. When she looked up at him, he smiled. "Besides," he said. "I'd much rather have you here, yelling at me…than the alternative."

"Yeah," she replied softly. "Me too."


	14. Ringing the Bell

Chapter Fourteen: Ringing the Bell

Once again, Jordan was seated on her office couch. Dr. Stiles was in her desk chair, which he had pulled around to the front.

"So. Are you going to be honest with me today, or should I pull out the poker cards?"

Jordan brought her hands to her face, and then ran her fingers through her hair. "Come on, Howard," she said. "I'm not trying to waste your time…I don't know what I'm trying to do…"

"Well," Dr. Stiles began. "Why don't we start from the beginning again?" Jordan nodded slightly, and he went on. "You told me that you feel like everyone around you thinks you're guilty. When did you start feeling that way?"

She thought for a moment. Could she really tell him—say it out loud?

"…It was…when I started working in the field again."

"Okay…why then? Why not immediately after you got out of prison?" Stiles questioned further.

"Because I didn't think…everyone had been so supportive—my friends, and Woody and Santana…I just didn't realize…that there were people who didn't believe me," she explained.

"Which people? What does that have to do with field work?"

She sighed. "The force." He looked at her quizzically. "Other police officers. The detectives, beat cops, CSU…they all treated me like crap when I came back," she clarified.

"So, they thought you were still guilty, and that made you feel guilty?"

Jordan nodded. Dr. Stiles thought for a moment. Things might be falling into place now. "What made you think that everyone else—people who weren't cops—thought that about you?"

"I…I don't know," she muttered.

"Yes, you do."

Jordan glanced up at him, and then focused on her hands. Nothing in the doctor's tone or expression was accusatory, but she still felt so small and childish. Finally she said, "It must have been in all the papers…and even if there had been a correction run, it wouldn't have been anywhere close to the front page. Once people have heard one side of something, that's all they believe."

Stiles didn't say anything, just waited for her to continue.

"I know it's stupid," she said. "But I feel kind of like…like I really _had_ killed JD, and that they were all angry because I wasn't being punished."

"But you didn't kill him," he quietly reminded her.

"I know that!" she yelled. "But that doesn't stop me from feeling like it!"

For a moment it looked like Jordan was going to bolt out the door, but she didn't. She sunk further down into the couch, defeated. They remained silent for a long time, each thinking about what she had just said.

"Jordan," Dr. Stiles said finally. She looked up at him. "I don't think what you're feeling is guilt."

"What do you mean? How can whatever I'm feeling not be guilt?" she asked incredulously.

"Just listen," he continued. "I think what you're feeling is shame. It's—"

"That's the same thing!"

He shook his head. "No, it's not. It's _not_, Jordan. They're close cousins, but they're two very different emotions. You don't have any reason to feel guilty, because you didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why would I feel shame? I don't have anything to be ashamed of, either!" Jordan said, exasperated. She didn't see how feeling shamed was any better than feeling guilty.

"That's where guilt and shame are different…you don't have to do anything to be ashamed. Sometimes, we're ashamed of what's been done _to_ us," he said. After pausing to let Jordan take that in, he carried on. "When you were sent to prison, you were humiliated, physically, mentally, and emotionally. It was terribly embarrassing for you, especially since you really were innocent. You didn't do anything to warrant such treatment, but it was done to you anyway. And the feeling that's attached to those kind of experiences, is shame."

As Jordan listened to him, tears filled her eyes. He was right. That was exactly how she felt. After a while, she asked, "So what difference does it make? How does knowing that I'm…ashamed…help?"

"It helps tremendously," Dr. Stiles replied. "You get rid of guilt and shame different ways. With guilt, you'd need to confess something to someone. With shame, you have to deal with it inside yourself."

"What does that mean?"

"You need to let it go."

Jordan shook her head. "I can't. How could I do that? Just pretend like it didn't happen? Act like I'm okay, when I'm not?"

"No, not like that," he agreed. "Letting go isn't denying your feelings, Jordan. It's acknowledging them, but deciding that they aren't going to rule your life."

"And then everything will just stop hurting?"

"Not right away. That's what makes letting go so difficult. You won't instantly feel better, like everything's peachy. It will still take time."

Jordan made a face. It was clear that she didn't believe him. Dr. Stiles sat back in his chair, trying to think of a way to help her understand.

"Try thinking of it this way," he said at last. "You know those bells that used to be on old churches or schoolhouses? The kind that is up really high and you have to pull a big rope in order to ring it?"

Slowly Jordan nodded, not sure where he was going.

"If you've been pulling the rope for a while, what happens when you stop?"

"The bell stops ringing."

"Right away?"

"No…the sound is there for a while, then it fades."

"Exactly," he said. "That's what your feelings are like. You feel ashamed because of being in prison, and every time you think about it—when you are near people, when you try to go outside—it's like pulling on the rope. The sound of the bell, then, is the hurt that you have because of the shame."

"…So what?"

"So, when you let go—when you choose to not yank on that rope, the bell will keep ringing for a while. Not forever…you'll still hurt, but it will become less and less painful until it's just gone."

She bit her lip and closed her eyes briefly. "If that's true…then how do I quit pulling the rope?"

He smiled. "I was hoping you'd ask that," he said. "You face your fears. You go to the store, go to the park, be out in the world. But just as importantly, you ask for help. Not from me—from your friends. I can only take you so far; you need other people to help you actually do these things. You have great friends, who would do anything for you. They won't judge you. They want to help you."

Jordan nodded in understanding. She knew that, if she could pluck up the courage to tell them, her friends would be there for her.

"There's one more thing," Stiles said. He waited until Jordan was looking at him. "You also have to learn to believe the truth."

"What's that?"

"Actually, there are two things that I'll start you off with…first, most people are not watching you—they don't know, and they don't care that you were in prison. In fact, you were never in the papers to begin with."

"I wasn't—?" Jordan was genuinely surprised.

"Nope. Oh, the stuff about the Judge was…but not you. And I don't know why; I can never figure the press out. But the world isn't out to get you."

"What's the second thing?"

"The police force," he said. "They will come around. You know all about the rumor mill…no one could possibly dream up the things that it spreads. Sooner or later, they will realize that you are innocent, and everything will go back to normal."

Jordan hesitantly let out a breath she felt like she'd been holding forever. Somewhere, deep down, she'd known both of those things. It was just releasing to hear them out loud from someone else. And if she could, somehow, stop ringing that bell…maybe everything would be all right.


	15. Silencing

Chapter Fifteen: Silencing

He picked up the phone on its second ring. "This is Hoyt."

"_Woody! Hey…it's Jordan."_

"Hi, sweetie. What's going on?" He smiled, even though he knew she couldn't see him.

"_Oh, nothing. I just…well, you know…it's really nothing…ummm…I, uh…I need to go to the store."_

"I'll be right over."

Woody flipped his phone shut and grabbed his keys. Jordan had filled him in on her chat with Dr. Stiles, along with an uncharacteristically meek plea for help. He knew that baring her soul was not easy for Jordan, and he felt extremely honored that she would even think of asking him. True, she had told Garret and Nigel first, but Woody was happy to help any way she'd let him. And if that meant going grocery shopping with her, then that's what he'd do.

* * *

Jordan answered the door almost before Woody was finished knocking. He walked in, and Jordan gave him a small, self-conscious smile. He responded by pulling her to himself in a gentle hug. 

"So…the store, huh?" he asked after a few minutes.

"Yeah," Jordan replied, burying her face into his shoulder. "I, uh…I made the list…and I was all ready to go…and then I couldn't do it."

Woody nodded in understanding, rubbing her back softly. "How far did you get?"

"The elevator," she mumbled. "Five times."

Despite her embarrassment, Woody had to smile. "Well," he said good-naturedly. "That's farther than you've gotten before."

Jordan pulled back from him, but didn't look up.

"Hey," he said. "Hey…Jordan, it's okay. It's a process…and you're getting there. A few weeks ago, you wouldn't have been able to think about going to the store without having a panic attack. Just because you need someone to go with you doesn't mean you're weak."

She sighed and leaned back into him. "I know," she said. "It's just so hard sometimes."

He gave her a squeeze. "It'll get better, I promise. It will, because you're a fighter…and you've got a whole bunch of other fighters on your side."

Woody felt Jordan smile against him. She disengaged herself from his arms and picked up her purse.

"All ready?" he asked.

"Y-Yeah…I g-g-guess so," Jordan answered shakily. She took a deep breath to steady herself. "Yes…I am. Let's go."

Woody wrapped one arm around her shoulders and led her out the door. As they walked down the hallway, he felt her tense and lean into him.

"Relax, Jordan. You don't need to ring the bell. Don't even touch the rope. Just let it go."

"I know…I'm trying," she said. Woody hugged her closer. "Just…don't leave. Please."

"No way," he said and kissed the top of her head. "You're stuck with me."


	16. Moving Forward

**This is the final chapter. Thanks for all the reviews!**

Chapter Sixteen: Moving Forward

"Jordan, a body was found behind a club on 16th street. Detective Seely's waiting; take Nigel with you," Garret gruffed when he saw her get off the elevator.

"Yeah, okay. Just give me a sec to get my things," she replied. On her way to her office, she hollered out the news to Nigel.

Garret had put Jordan back in the field about a month ago, after the several it took for her to get back on her feet. Although she sometimes reverted back to her fears, Jordan was functioning quite well on her own. Woody still brought her to work in the morning, but they both knew that it more about pleasure than necessity.

"Hey, Nige! Some time today, please!" Jordan called. She stopped in front of his desk and tapped her toes impatiently. Nigel pretended to be annoyed, but smiled as he got up and walked out with her.

* * *

On the way to the scene, Nigel and Jordan talked animatedly. They pulled up; Jordan let out a gasp and stopped talking. When Nigel followed her eye's path, he saw Detective Simmons standing over the body. 

"What's she doing here? I thought Seely was handling this," he commented. Jordan didn't say anything. Despite jumping over all the hurdles she had for the past months, Jordan had still stayed far away from the accusing detective.

"Jordan, do you want me to do this? I'm sure it's not essential to have two M.E.s," Nigel said sympathetically.

Slowly, Jordan shook her head. "No…no, that's all right Nigel," she said. "I can do this…and I need to do this. It's the only bridge I have left to cross."

"Your sure?"

"Yes," she said and gave him a classic smirk. "Absolutely."

They both exited the SUV, but Nigel beat Jordan to the body. As he passed Lu, he gave her a hard glare.

"Seely's car broke down," Lu explained. She had the good grace to look somewhat apologetic.

Jordan came up and both women stared at each other a bit, as if they were sizing each other up.

Lu started to say something, but Jordan cut her off.

"Look, detective, I don't really care what you have to say. I don't care what you think about me. I don't want to be your friend. There are only two things I want."

The blond raised an eyebrow expectantly, but said nothing.

"I want you to treat me respectfully and professionally. Secondly, regardless of what you actually believe, you will treat me like I am _innocent_ of JD's murder," Jordan paused to let the words sink in. "If you can do that, then I'll do the same, and we have nothing to worry about. Got it?"

Looking a little rattled, but recovering quickly, Lu gave Jordan one curt nod.

"Good," Jordan replied. "So what do we got?"

Lu began reciting the facts from the case as Jordan bent down to Nigel's level. He gave her a congratulatory smile, which she returned. Then, it was business as usual…for Jordan it was a welcomed occurrence.

* * *

It was 8:00 the next morning. Jordan had gotten up extra early to make sure she would beat Woody. He no longer came so early because he knew Jordan would be ready to go. 

Unable to hold back a smile, Jordan confidently rapped on his apartment door.

"Hang on!" his voice was muffled from inside. When he opened the door, his surprise was evident.

"Just thought that maybe you'd like to go to breakfast before work," Jordan said causally as she invited herself inside.

Woody shut the door and turned around slowly. "That'd be great," he said before a huge smile spread across his face. He swooped toward her and swung her around in his arms, both of them laughing.

When he finally set her back down he squeezed her tighter and breathed a sigh of relief. Jordan was back. She was really okay. And she was his friend again.

For Woody, he couldn't have asked for more. He would stick by his promise—to redeem himself. But he would no longer push her. He still loved her, but he would be happy with whatever Jordan was willing to give him.

For Jordan, it was a bit different. She knew that she wasn't ready for a deep relationship…but she also knew she wouldn't be satisfied with mere friendship for long.

As Woody released her and they took off, hand in hand, Jordan vowed to move forward with her life instead of staying stagnate. There were a few other bells she needed to quit ringing—some of which she'd been ringing since childhood. She knew that Woody, and the rest of her friends, would be right by her side through it all.

For once, she looked toward the future with excitement instead of fear. Today would be a good day, and so would the next, and the next.


End file.
